Solstice sisters

Chapter 21

Chapter 21: Ivy's POV

I'm cold. Colder than usual. My body feels supercharged with power, but my mind feels sluggish and slow. When I fight the fog clears around my opponent, everything about them becomes crystal clear. I can predict what move they will make and beat them to it. The world is sharper, like it's coming into focus. But that's all I can think about, fighting. My mind becomes so full of tactics and strategies that I have no room for anything else. I can't think about anything other that killing my opponent when I'm in battle. When I'm not fighting my thoughts glaze over, like a blanket of fog that covers my mind and prevents me from thinking. I only know one thing, I need to win the war no matter what, and that's the only thing that matters.

'Ivy' Blight Kane walked towards me dressed in full battle armour.
'Yes sir?' I asked as I bowed to him.
'Why are you not ready for battle?' He asked looking mildly annoyed.
'I'm sorry sir, I was just sharpening my knives' I explained as I finished sharpening my last knife. They were spread out in front of me, perfectly polished and razor sharp. Blight nodded in understanding.
'Okay that's fine but now you're finished, I want you to go get your armour on and meet me at my tent' he instructed and began to walk away, his raven hair glowed faintly blue in the early morning sunlight.
'Yes sir' I replied respectfully. He was too far away for me to hear his reply but he raised his hand in acknowledgement. I took a deep breath and gathered up my weapons into a red cloth bag. They clinked together with each step I took. The sound wasn't irritating to me, it was soothing. I wasn't worried for the battle, nor did I fear for my life. Today was the winter solstice and I expect the fight will be as short as the day is. The throne will last as long as the daylight does, then the night will take over. We are all Knights of the dark here, even if not everyone's human (looking). My sack of weapons was hauled over my shoulder, the sharpened tips of the knives dug into my shoulder blades. The pain didn't bother me, in fact it gave me a sense of clarity. My mind cleared enough for me to be able to get a thought in edge ways. The camp was alive with the buzz of creatures. They ambled past, decked out in various types of armour, some wielded weapons, others were weapons. I'm not sure what I am. I don't remember arriving at the camp, I don't really remember a time before the camp, I just know that there was something before I came here; it's blocked though, I can't access that part of me. But I don't seem to mind, in combat or out of it, my thoughts rarely wander.

I arrived at the makeshift armoury. It was a large tent, more of a marquee, around the size of a small house. Piled high with weapons and protective gear for all races. The whole camp was made up from a series of tents, they were pale grey and mould grew on the sides, tingeing them green, they varied in size and each one had a different purpose. Most of them were dedicated to plotting attacks, discussing strategies and arming our small scale military. The odd tent was used for bedrooms but hardly anyone slept. We had a battle to prepare for. The sound of metal being sharpened had filled the air since the early hours of the morning. Now the clanking of armour, the low buzz of creatures communicating and the clanging of weapons joined in the symphony. The camp came alive as it prepared for war.

I walked inside the armoury tent and slung my bag of weapons down. I went to choose my armour, I knew no one here so there was no one to help me prepare for the war I was about to face. In silence I chose my armour. It was a bleak, silver chest plate; a chainmail vest; multiple sheaths and other places to store weapons and finally a set of sturdy, black leather boots. I pulled the chainmail vest over my head, it felt heavy on my shoulders and cool against the skin my shirt exposed. The chest plate was scratched but the ornate spiralling pattern still remained. As I struggled to tighten the worn straps of the plate an image swam into view. I was watching myself and another figure who I didn't recognise. He was tall and slender with blonde hair that was left untamed, it curled around his tanned smiley face, his eyes were striking green with hints of blue. A part of me felt a hint of recognition toward the boy, he looked young, maybe sixteen? We were sat at a table in a large, old fashioned looking kitchen. A large fire raged behind the gate of the fireplace, in our hands were large mugs of hot chocolate. The boy was speaking to me, my hair was deep brown almost black, it fell around my shoulders in dark waves. I couldn't hear what the boy was saying, nor could I remember it, it all just felt familiar. Then it was gone. Snapped back into the depths of my mind, the memory of it began to fade. Desperately I tried to cling on but already I had forgotten what the boys face looked like. What boy? What was I thinking about again? My head ached slightly, I shook off the feeling I was forgetting something and tightened the straps of my breast plate. A thick, black leather belt was strapped around my midsection, it had multiple holders for me to store weapons, I wore sheaths around my thighs and upper arms, knives were strapped everywhere I could reach in a hurry. My long white hair had been braided tightly to keep it out of my way, my ivory skin looked almost tanned against the stark paleness of my hair. A pendant hung at the base of my throat, it bounced against my collarbones as I walked through the camp. It was cold as ice, but I could barely feel it, I was as cold as ice.